This Wasn't Supposed to Happen
by YourShadowhunterBitch
Summary: Clary: A quiet girl with a few friends, red hair, and a mouth that doesn't like to collaborate with her brain or instincts. Put her in the 11th grade, and she just might get her ass kicked. At least she has a Magnus, an Izzy, and a Simon to fix some stuff. Clace with a side of Malec and a sprinkle of Sizzy. AU and slightly OOC.


**Hello world, how are you today? I know this is cliché storyline, but bear with me! I wanted to do a simple TMI high school plotline. *cue groans* I know, I know. I just want to have a little Clace/Malec/Sizzy fun! (This is majorly Clace, with a good side of Malec, and a sprinkle of Sizzy) This story for now shall be rated T. I may or may not raise rating to M if the mood strikes. It is rated T for my swearing and crude topics. Sorry, not sorry. Read only if comfy cozy for you! *points at you accusingly*. BTW, I am picking this lame story line to also aspire to become a beta reader because I hate grammatical mistakes. So, this story is in third person but mainly follows Clary. I haven't decided whether or not to follow Jace or anyone else. YAY! Time to read! But… first the disclaimer **

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own the characters or anything from The Mortal Instruments, The Infernal Devices, or The Dark Artifices. I only own this version of my typical high school lame-o story. I also do not own Roxanne by The Police, or Fall Out Boy.**_

"Simon-flipping-Lewis, get your filthy hands off my turkey sandwich!" yelled an agitated Clary, as she slapped her best friends hand away from the sandwich that she had taken the time to make for herself that morning.

"But, Fray," Simon whined, "I don't ever get a sandwich filled with love. All I get is this shitty cafeteria food."

"Sucks to suck, Lewis." Clary retorted while taking a big, mocking bite of her turkey and lettuce sandwich.

"Hey, stop screwing around, people who I'm not really sure why I'm friends with." Said the black haired girl sitting across from them, munching thoughtfully on her salad.

The three waited at their table for their sparkly friend to appear out of the lunch line. They continued to converse, looking over their shoulders to make sure they could still see the sparkly, blue hair bobbing in the lunch line. As soon as he got his lunch together and paid, he made a bee-line for their usual table in the corner of their obnoxiously loud cafeteria. The grin on his face was unsettling, because it was so big that with his blue-ish hair he could have been brothers with the Cheshire cat himself.

"You guys will never guess," screeched Magnus, cutting his sentences weird like a thirteen year old fangirl, "You all know tall, dark, and gorgeous over there that I have had my eye on all semester, well, we made eye contact, and he _smiled_ at me!"

"Maggie, we're all glad that your little stalker project finally has come together, but you sound like a pre-pubescent little girl when you shriek like that, hon." Said Izzy as she looked through her long lashes and stuffed a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

"Be nice Isabelle, I think it's sweet how you're going after Alec." Replied Clary, "But, I don't see how it's going to work, seeming, _you know_, how he's, like, straight?"

Izzy and Magnus sort of gave each other a little look and burst out laughing at their silent, little inside joke.

Simon scooted over to Clary and murmured, "I think we're missing something here."

"Oh Biscuit, that boy makes my gay-nar put on the red light like Roxanne does for the Police." Magnus smirks at his 80s' rock reference.

Izzy giggles, "I mean, it cliché really. The cute, quiet boy that tries to fit in with the "normal" crowd, when in reality he is a freak in the sheets gay with a big dick."

Clary's cheeks redden while Simon peeks over his shoulder to 'examine' Alec.

Alec was shyly sitting at the commonly known "popular" table eating a sandwich. He always seemed to keep to himself and stay in the shadow of his best friend; bad-boy, heartbreaker, jockstrap, Jace. That was why Magnus seemed to be drawn to him. He loved the shy personality with a well hidden exciting personality. Well, that and his weird fetish for the black hair and blue eyes. Boy or girl, if they had that dark and mysterious combo, Magnus was sure to tap that.

"Poor guy," said Clary with a frown on her face, "Alec is always cast out of the way for Jockstrap and Sebastard to take the spotlight."

Magnus, Izzy, and Simon all glanced her way with quizzical looks.

_What the eff is Jockstrap and Sebastard?_

"Oh," said Clary, who now had a pink tint to her cheeks, "That's what I call Jace and Sebastian in my head. I never really intended to say that out loud. Sorry."

Magnus burst out laughing, "Biscuit, you are my spirit animal. Don't apologize for that, and next time make sure you say that within their earshot, please and thank you." He got out between giggles.

Jace and Sebastian were like the leaders of their pack. Everybody who wanted or was part of the popular crowd bowed down to them. Clary had a feeling the only reason they bowed was to kiss their asses. Jace was captain of the football team and always had a woman on each arm. Then, a third girl who was on her knees in front of him. He was golden, literally. Gold hair, gold skin, and even fricken' gold eyes. He was used to a club scene, definitely has been drunk, and with older woman and more than one at a time. But, the thing that stuck out the most about him, was his ego. He was the most egotistical asshole the world will _ever_ see.

Sebastian was almost the opposite in looks, but nothing else. He was dark, in more than one way. He had black hair, and eyes to match. He was pretty goddamn creepy if you ask Clary. Always had his eyes on some unsuspecting girl. If they knew he was creeping on them they probably wouldn't care, though. Like his friend, he was a useless, chick magnet that used and abused his latest fling.

The group tended to ignore this group.

"Lunch is almost over," said Simon, "I'm going to go get my shit for History."

"Me too." Said Izzy in a breathy voice.

As the two walked out of the cafeteria Magnus spoke up, "They _like _each other."

Clary rolled her eyes as she got up from the lunch table to throw away her trash. She strode out of the lunch room and into the mess of teenagers crowding around their lockers. She maneuvered her way through the hordes to her locker. She carefully twisted in 29-31-3 and yanked open her locker, trying to avoid problems with the sticky hinges. She grabbed her sketchbook, loose notebook paper, and prismacolors she brought from home for herself. She slammed her locker closed and headed to her sanctuary, room 625B the second building art studio.

Clary wiped off her paint brush, taking care not to smear the paint onto the metal head for fear of ruining it. She took a final look at her assigned family portrait before covering it with a canvas tarp to set aside. She picked up her paints and brushes to wash off when a busty figure shoved straight into her. The green paint spilled onto Clary's red converse and the attackers' shirt. Or strip of pink spandex that Clary wasn't sure was classified as a piece of clothing.

"Oh my god! You bitch! You meant to spill that on me!" said Kaelie, who Clary realized was the person that ran into her.

Kaelie was one of Jockstraps booty calls. If Jace was a plane, this girl would be classified as a frequent flier. Or rider in their case. Then again, Jace had many of those. Yup, bleach blonde, fake tanned girls were his thing.

"I really didn't mean to." Clary squeaked.

"What the hell!? Stop lying, dumb bitch. I would call you a whore, but you've probably never even kissed a boy. Who would wanna tap that anyway?" Kaelie bitched.

It was true, Clary had never kissed a boy, unless you counted her brother when she was younger. No one had ever made any sort of move on her, either. Sexually or romantically, it didn't matter. She was just barely a B cup and had a flat ass. Her freckles were childish and her curls made her look like a clown from the circus.

Clary could feel the tears coming, "I'm sorry.' She croaked and picked up the mess.

She quickly washed the brushes and mopped the paint before excusing herself to the bathroom. She locked herself into the handicap stall and put her sweatshirt on the floor. She wadded up toilet paper and cried into it. She had heard it all before, but it didn't numb the hurt. The incessant bullying was a part of life. It was a cycle now. Apologize for doing whatever they insulted you about, then clean up the mess you made, then excuse yourself to cry. Clary was tired of it, but she could stop the tears no less.

She waited until she her the ring of the bell, signaling the beginning of the passing period. She wiped her tears off and rinsed her face with cold water. She tried to straighten out her Fall Out Boy band shirt to make herself look more appealing, and failed. She grabbed her sweatshirt and satchel and went to her next class. She sat down at a desk in the back, setting out her things until the five minute passing period was over. As her history professor began to talk on the Mexican Revolution of 1910 she slid in her ear buds and picked at her ripped jeans.

"Jonathan, you're here. Late." Mr. Starkweather grumbled.

"It's Jace, and I'm well aware of the time." The golden asshole retorted.

"I'm pretty sure Jockstrap suits you better." Clary muttered.

The whole class turned around to look at her. _Shit, _she thought,_ I wasn't supposed to say that out loud._

**Chapter one, check! Success! Follow/Favorite/Review. It all counts in my heart. **

**Kisses,**

**YourShadowhunterBitch**


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